


Rock Bottomless

by mythomagicallydelicious



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Crying, Gen, Mild Language, Suicidal Ideation, kind of, low self worth, the Bottomless Pit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 21:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10448205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythomagicallydelicious/pseuds/mythomagicallydelicious
Summary: Stan's spent fifteen years in Gravity Falls, and one thing he knows for certain about that place, is that nothing worth anything ever makes it out of the bottomless pit in his backyard.





	

Stan knows about the Bottomless Pit. He assumes with how close it was to Sixer’s house, he must’ve written about it in one of the journals. 

Stan at first took it as a place to throw his old junk down, stuff he didn’t want or need anymore. Junk mail, old bits of trash and furniture that the town wouldn’t pick up for free. He’d also seen some tourists accidentally lose their watches and belongings down there. Once Stan had lost his spare key to the El Diablo. But the weird part of the pit was that sometimes things came back. Never the stuff he wanted, either. He never saw that pair of socks again, but every candy wrapper he’d ever thrown down there managed to end up ringing the entrance to the pit a few minutes later. He lost some tapes there one time and unopened bottles of Pitt Cola never came back. But the junk always managed a way back to the top, whether a few minutes or hours later. 

Stan sighed. He sat down in the grass surrounding the pit. It had been fifteen years since he started working on the portal. He’d never had an ounce of luck finding the other journals. He’d taught himself such advanced physics and mathematics that he got a headache just thinking about those stressful nights.  
But he couldn’t bring Stanford back. Sitting on the edge, he let one foot dangle over the side of the pit. He grabbed an empty can of cola and threw it over the edge and waited. An hour later it flew back up and landed near him on the grass. Stan sighed. 

“You always spit back out the junk, huh? No trash disappears down you, right? You won’t take care of my problems for me?” Stan asked the pit.  
Stan dropped his other leg over the edge. He briefly wondered if Ford had ever tried this. Then he pushed himself forward and fell…  
..  
..  
..  
..  
..  
It was pitch black.  
..  
..  
..  
..  
..  
There was no sound except for the rushing of air in his ears. Stan wondered if he’d just keep falling forever, or if the ‘bottomless pit’ will end in him being flattened like a stancake.  
..  
..  
..  
..  
..  
He couldn’t track the passing of time, but it felt like hours to him.  
..  
..  
..  
..  
..  
And suddenly, he saw light ahead of him…no wait, above him…and then he was deposited on the ground with a startled THUMP. He looked around, noticing the crushed can of cola on the ground next to him. Further behind him, he could make out the Mystery Shack. He was back, and at about the same time he’d left, unless he’d fallen for a whole day.

Stan started to laugh. He stretched out in the grass and rolled in it, laughter high pitched and unsettling, echoing off the trees and scaring woodpeckers from their perches.

His laughter was broken by sobs and only grew louder.

“Only—only the garbage comes back, huh? Nothing good ever comes out of the pit, r-right?” Stan cried harder, tearing grass out of the ground with his hands. “And I ain’t worth shit, so I came back, huh? I knew it. I knew it. I kn-knew it…” He kept muttering as he sobbed harder, his self-deprecating laughter finally cut off by the force of emotion in his throat and behind his eyes. “I’m as worthless as all the other junk this thing spews out, and I never shoulda thought different.”

Stan lay there for a long time as he cried.


End file.
